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POEMS 

BY 

WILFRID EARL CHASE 



Revised and Enlarged Edition 



W. E. CHASE 
Madison, Wisconsin 






Copyright, 1913, 
By Wilfrid Earl Chase 



'CI.A354280 



CONTENTS 



The Lake's Edge 

Thistledown 

Song of the Satellites 

The First Snowfall 

Pasque Flowers 

Where the Birdfoot Violets Grow 

Black-eyed Susan 

The Dragon-fly 

Surcease 

Playdays 

A Fountain of Beauty 

Faith 

The Works of Life 

Sorrows Shall End 

Good Cheer 

Shadows 

Benevolence 

Open the Door! 

Consider the Stars 

Brotherhood 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/poems01chas 



THE LAKE'S EDGE 

The leaves of all the border trees 

Are gently vibrant in the breeze; 

Leaves of linden, oak, and thorn 

Murmur sweetly, seeming born 

All to pleasure, none to mourn: 

And safe on parent twigs content abiding,— 

Whisper low, soft and low, 

As secrets dear to covert friends confiding. 

Now Cynthia's silver scutcheon shines. 

And thousand stars come twinkling— 

Spica white, Denebola, 

Regulus, Cor Caroli, 

Vega, Altair, and the rest 

To rival her display a gentle inkling. 

And now from glades and leafy shades, 

The merry sprites in caps and bells come tinkling. 



They creep from crannies, nooks, and flowers— 

Their cool retreats through sunny hours; 

From rifted ledge, and riven bole, 

From hollow gall, and yarup's hole, 

From veiny, fragrant orchid shoon. 

From yellow corymbs of puccoon. 

From varied hosts of vernal flowers 

That fledge the meads and fleck the bowers. 

A murmurous music fills the air, 

Diffusing, pulsing everywhere; 

A sound of whirring elfin wings, 

Of tinkling tones of cithern strings, 

Of medleys at the water's brink 

Whose trembling measures swell and sink, 

Of myraid voices— hum and trill, — 

A melody from rush to hill. 

And now begins in fringed light 

The revelry and dancing; 

Hairy gnomes from nether lands, 

Avens fays, and iris elves, 

All the region's fairy bands 

In modest dance and merriment go glancing. 

While everywhere the balmy air 

Is charged with perfumes, more the joy enhancing. 



And Nature's tribes that roam by night 
Come hastening to see the sight, 
While even some that wake by day 
Are roused from Slumber's gentle sway; 
And all, enchanted, find a place 
To view the scene of mirth and grace, 
And scarce forbear the joy themselves 
As tinkles sweet the reel of elves. 

But leaves of shrubs and vines and trees 

Are sleeping in the gentle breeze; 

Leaves of honeysuckle vine, 

Leaves of scented eglantine, 

Screening floods of lucent shine 

Are fast on parent stems all safe abiding, 

Dreaming on, softly on. 

Their weary powers to Nature's care confiding. 



THISTLEDOWN 

From the pasture on the hillside, 
Gently loosed from parent's crown, 

Like a fairy, light and airy, 
Drifts a thistledown. 

Wafted skyward by the breezes— 
Phantom-like its snowy gown — 

Nonchalantly eddying onward, 
Floats the thistledown. 

Now it near the earth approaches. 
Gaily skirts the busy town; 

Children spy it, laughing chase it. 
Fluffy thistledown! 

Out again o'er wood and greensward. 
O'er the furrowed plow-lands brown. 

Prosper in thy flight erratic, 
Little thistledown! 



SONG OF THE SATELLITES 

We are far in the starry heights, — 

Ariel, Umbriel; 
Far in the starry heights,— 

Ariel, O! 
Casting our friendly lights 

All through the quiet nights, 
Ariel, Umbriel, O! 

We are orbs swiftly winging, 
In vasty space singing,— 

Titania, Oberon, 0! 
True to the inner sphere. 

Speeding yet ever near, 
Swift-winging satellites, O ! 

Titania, Oberon, 

Ariel, Umbriel,— 
Tending fair Uranus, 0! 

Casting our starry lights 
All through the quiet nights,— 

Sweet-singing satellites, O! 



THE FIRST SNOWFALL 

The winds are still; the air is chill; 

The leaden sky hangs low; 
While cold and drear and brown and sere 

Lies all the world below. 

But see that sprite in fleecy white, 

From realms of upper air! 
Nor has it flown from heaven alone — 

They thicken everywhere. 

With airy grace, at leisure pace. 

They softly, gently fall 
O'er field and fen and grove and glen, 

Alike transforming all. 

And when tonight, fair Luna bright 
Through rifting clouds shall glow — 

splendrous sight! the Earth bedight 
In spotless robe of snow. 



PASQUE FLOWERS 

Hail, Pasque Flowers! beautiful as ever, 
I've climbed the bluff to visit you today; 

And here again I see your fairy legions 
Betokening the end of Winter's sway. 

A miracle, as ever, your appearing. 

So late congealed beneath your mantle white, 
For this is but capricious April's season, 

A time of fickle day and frosty night. 

Or, is it true you spring from earthy substance, 
Wooed fitfully by April's tepid sun? 

Or drop, by stealth, from summer hills of heaven, 
Take instant root? A clever sleight! well done! 



However it be, you stand here in your glory — 
Existences with subtle perfume fraught — 

Your hearts of gold, inviting shrines of beauty. 
Your chalices in fairest azure wrought. 

With careful foot I slowly stroll among you, 
Crowning the bluff like pure, effulgent gems; 

Then lying midst you, smell your unplucked blossoms 
And gently touch your hardy, downy stems. 

I ponder on your vigor and your beauty. 
True harbingers of balmy summer days. 

Like poets wise amid afflicted peoples 
Foretelling times propitious with their lays. 



WHERE THE BIRDFOOT 
VIOLETS GROW 

I know a place in an upland glade 
Where the birdfoot violets grow. 

Remote it is from the haunts of men, 
And the Maytime zephyrs blow 

Mid the leaves of the ever-guarding trees 
With a mystic murmur low. 

And some of the violets gaily bloom 
In the sun of the open glade; 

And some, adoring the guarding trees, 
Bloom at its edge in the shade; 

While others, heeding a sylvan call. 
Into the woods have strayed. 



But not alone do the violets bloom, 

For here are sister flowers, 
Dotting the earth in varied hues, 

Decking the fragrant bowers. 
While various creatures of earth and air 

Rejoice through the drowsy, sunny hours. 

Here stands a loving sisterhood 

In lavender and green and gold; 
While banks of oxalis blossoms shy 

Their frail and modest bells unfold, 
Visited oft by alar friends — 

Rovers free and suitors bold. 

Abiding aloft in her new-found home. 
The tanager flits through her leafy halls; 

The sweet-voiced pewee of the woods. 
Late from the Southland, drowsily calls; 

In a moss-grown dell at the woodland's edge. 
The phoebe broods on her nest 'neath a ledge. 



Tis a day of joyance, for shines the sun; 

Creatures of earth and creatures of air, 
Warm in its rays, are at Hfe's glad height. 

Fair is the world, and very fair. 
Nature invites us on such a day 

To open glade and to wood and brae. 

All those are poor who, care-enslaved, 
In toil spend all the balmy days, 

Or who, engrossed with worldly things. 
Neglect to tread fair Nature's ways. 

Failing to note the flowers' charms 
And the happy birds' sweet roundelays. 

But free for all are these delights, 

A boon to high and low. 
Then come with me in the Maytime fair 

If ever you wish to go, 
I'll lead to the place in the upland glade 

Where the birdfoot violets grow. 



BLACK-EYED SUSAN 

I am beautiful Black-eyed Susan; 

The belle of the glade am I. 
All the birds and the bees 

From the woods and the leas, 
Salute when they pass me by. 



THE DRAGON-FLY 

Thy earlier life was humbly spent 
Within the lakelet's shallow edge. 

Amidst the various company 
Betwixt the rush and border sedge. 

There trilled the toad, in vernal joy, 
A drowsy tune of soothing pitch; 

And there, with sleights of sorcery, 
Glided the water-witch; 

The hungry hawk came sweeping by- 
The gallinule and sora hid; 

Athwart the water, craftily. 
In wavy lines, the serpent slid. 

At last upon a halcyon day 

Thou creptest from thy lowly home, 
In thy forbidding form and guise, 

Misshapen and unsightly gnome: 



Thy resting place, a vervain stem; 

Then in the warm and kindly sun 
Came Nature deft, with gracious hand. 

And gently rent thy garment dun. 

Behold what a wonder here! 

Imago in one short hour; 
Released from an ugly guise. 

Endowed with another power. 

Ataunt, in thy new array, 

Thou cruisest the airy sea, 
As skilled as a pilot bold, 

As free as the winds are free. 

A lord of the realms of light. 

On delicate wings of air — 
Off for the glen or meadow. 

And presto! thou art there. 



Now fixed for a trembling trice, 
airy and buoyant sprite; 

Now darting anear and yon, 
Taxing a nimble sight; 

Now toward the azure heights, — 
That province serene of sky, 

That pure, ethereal realm, 
Where loitering flecks drift by; 

Now down to the lands of the lea- 
The realm of the grigs and bees- 
Resting on the daisy crowns. 
Swayed by the summer breeze. 



SURCEASE 

Gloaming is almost night; 

Tired of day's din and light, 
Would I my wearied might 

Rest from its lading. 
1 to the forest flee; 

Open its aisles to me! 
Far in dim shadows, see 

Peace all prevading! 



PLAYDAYS 

When at last a work is faithfully done, 

Then we should gaily play. 
So hie with your Love afar and away, 

Where every day is a summer day. 
And the waters glide or lap the shores 

In the Lands of Rest away. 

I hie with my Love away; 

We follow the bluebird, long since gone, 
And we hie us afar and away. 

We wake, and the sea-breeze is blowing 
Mid beautiful, strange things growing; 

And the Spirit of Rest is ruler here. 
O'er a land all warm and glowing. 



Weary we are, and mid this drowsy land 
Why not catch pace with leisure footsteps here? 

What need to watch the dial's urging hand 
Or watch trade-currents veer? 

Things speak in murmurs here, and softly murmuring say: 
"Time ever was and ever will be, so why haste? 

Forget the long-borne care and rest in quiet here. 
On shores with pine trees and with grand palmettoes 
graced." 

Here peaceful powers in dreamy splendor dwell. 

A summer sea its beach, inviting, laves. 
Come join us now you careworn, weary bands. 

In a land where men are free and chatties are the slaves. 

Playdays, playdays on a kindly southern strand! 

Playdays where the days are warm and bright! 
Where pendent plants in misty tresses wave, 

And the redbird's liquid song announces light! 



Whither tonight? And my Love says, "Let us come! 

We'll glide in silver light upon the sea; 
For the souls of myriad fishes, with longings for the deep, 

Come down at night and play upon the sea. 
With weird, erratic motions see them play; 

See them glow and dart and frolic in their glee. 
Mysterious spirit fishes and eerie water-sprites! 

O, the phosphorescent beauty of the sea!" 

Whither today? And my Love says, "Come! 

Come where the surf rolls in!" 
So we play in the arms of the ocean 

Where the crested surf rolls in. 
And we rest on the waif-strewn sand 

While pelicans drift above. 
And we play on the waif-strewn sand. 

Or over its stretches rove. 



Whither today? And I say, "Come! 

We'll row up the winding river, 
Past orange groves to the virgin wilds 

Where scarce but a brook is the river. 
O, glorious reaches of wilderness. 

Where fair leaves whisper and quiver! 
And the narrowing tree-lines greet and touch, 

And scarce but a brook is the river!" 

Inland we stroll on many a day, 
Through the peaceful forest roaming. 

Fantastic pines 'gainst the southern blue! 
And the soothing sound as the winds pass through! 

Below on the sand with its hardy growth, 
In this peaceful place remote from the world. 

We're in Nature's care till the gloaming. 

Playdays, playdays in a kindly southern land! 

Playdays where the days are warm and bright! 
Where pendent plants in misty tresses wave. 

And the redbird's liquid song announces light! 



A FOUNTAIN OF BEAUTY 

The beauty of this noble face 
With gentle, loving eyes, 

Is not a superficial grace, — 
Its fountain soul-deep lies. 



FAITH 

Maze of antinomies and miracles! 
Bewildered, purblind we are led along 
This rock-strewn, flower-decked, mystic, won- 
drous way. 
Whence came? What are we? Whither are we 

led? 
Wherefore journey we? Why such fickle path? 
And Nature's myriad answers, voiced in the 

storm's 
Wild tumult, fringed on the gentian's azure cup, 
Or limned on human brow, we would descry, — 
And some we darkly guess and some we almost 
know. 

Clothed now for me in clinging shadows, all; 
But I, in thinning twilight, almost dread 
The radiance, and know not evil sure 
A return to utter dark. And you, who now 
With clearer vision see, nor envy nor 
Commiserate my present situation. 
For, soon or late, will Knowledge in due turn. 
From every eye the final veil remove. 
Clear-sighted, all shall see the truth— or woe or 
joy. 



But wrack awhirl the maelstrom, we of earth,— 
But downs adrift the wildly hurtled winds. 
For what this mortal term, for some so sad, 
A tragic journey with the beldam Woe? 
Are we the victims of a power malignant. 
Who in our torture finds a fiend's delight? 
Or for eternity of joy, God-fashioned? 
Pessimism! Optimism! Faith, I choose — 
Sometime shall we be glad we have walked a 
troubled way. 



THE WORKS OF LIFE 

High on the mountain top our goal is set. 

And as we climb the undulating slopes, 

Necessity is joined by host of needs: 

To food is added raiment, tool, and scrip; 

All these required, and are supplied — 

By work. 

By work. Then why on mossy bank should one 

Man lie, the while his haggard brother plies 

At double task? So, seeming, do the Fates 

Oft partial deal. But still, the idle man, 

By whips invisible, is urged to use; 

The overwrought, though fagged and worn, sustained, 

Through brake and tangle hews to glades of light. 



The youth arrived at laden manhood's age, 
Perplexed, among the callings seeks a choice: 
And as a bird, within a spacious grove, 
Scarce knows to nest in this or other tree; 
So does a youth, unless by genius swayed, 
Linger in doubt before he can decide. 

No two possess one fund of health or strength, 

One warmth of heart, one calibre of mind. 

This man, rude plaiting straws, performs his glad 

And proper function: that, true riving rocks, 

Sings through the day. Their works exchanged, then 

both 
Men wretched and the hated tasks done ill. 
A work commensurate with power is blest. 

Full oft is there discrimination made; 

As secular or sacred ever>^ work 

Is categorized, — layman or divine. 

As sacred as the pulpit is the shop. 

And in our widening lives where ends are gained 

By specialties, are digger, artisan. 

Inventor, preacher, bard, for balanced living 

Dependent each on each. 



As wins the light in cloudless air, from first 

Approach of morn to full meridian blaze, 

And none can say this part light from this full 

By any line is severed; so graduate 

The various works of universal life. 

And each and all, from him who humbly digs 

To him who sings, take necessary part. 

But each who digs a perfect ditch, must weave 

A perfect web, then sing a perfect song; 

For work by work we gain the happy heights. 



SORROWS SHALL END 

Again the myraid stars proclaim the night. 
For some the day has closed in heedless joy; 
The happy hours have passed with rapid flight, 
With scarce a care their pleasure to alloy. 
For some the time is one of woe and pain; 
They almost wish that morn's revealing light 
Would never glow again o'er land and main — 
Their beauties mockery to a tortured sight. 
For me— -why name myself amid the throng 
Of us who tread this world of joy and care? 
Because at last from out a torment long — 
A bitter trial — at last my world is fair; 
And deep, exulting gladness bids me cry — 
"Sorrows shall end! God's love shall never die!" 



GOOD CHEER 

Our all-wise Father for the final good, 

Doth mold and build and hew and grind and wreck 

In wondrous ways, that to our mortal minds 

Are often strange, incomprehensible. 

This man is bowed with Poverty's iron yoke, 

And life to him seems scarcely worth the cost. 

This one, whose way seems flowery bright, conceals 

A canker sorrow, making life a hell. 

And this, though hopeful, coughs his life away. 

While ye in mental discord bear, I grant. 

The deepest woe of all; spirits too choice. 

Too highly wrought to brave the wrenching whirl: 

And in this curative retreat, which we 

In love have builded for your present lodge, 

I visit you today; and if a word 

Of cheer God grants that I should speak, then I 

Most happily shall hold my visit good. 



Thou first, who in this padded room I see, — 
Grated the windows, padded are the walls. 
A full score years, they say, has this place been 
Thy dwelling; and still thou ravest, still thou canst 
Not meet release. Thy vacant, roving eye 
Marks not the kindly visage from the cold. 
Nor recks of night or day, or foul or fair. 
No friendly word of sympathy I speak, 
Affects thee other than the winds that through 
Thy gratings moan. I can but pass; still, know 
That he who laid the malady, will cure 
In his good time, will fully compensate. 

Thou next, — may I address thee? Yes? Thou'rt 

sane 
Today; thy eyes, thy face composed assure 
Of this; more sane, perchance, than most of us 
Who rove at will and are accounted sound. 
Yes, yes, I know; thy friends have told me all; 
The very things thou last would'st wish to do. 
I know just how it is — only at times 
Thy devil reigneth. But when he reigneth 'tis not 
The hardest; no, not then, but when thou'rt sane, 
Guessing the time till chaos comes again. 
And striving to be cheerful in thy woe. 



What do I hear thee say? "Do not condemn 

Me utterly? God knows I can not help 

It—and— I try—?" 

Condemn thee? None dream of that but fools. 

What choice of thine that thy unhappy sire, 

Held fast in Habit's grip, addled his brain 

With opium and gin? Or that the swing. 

Hung from the old oak tree, broke and caused 

A cruel, lasting harm? What choice of thine. 

That thousand streams of circumstance combined 

To make thy mind an eddy? 

But I must on. Yet not before I say 

How much I pity thee: before I say 

How well I know that thou, though suffering 

In loneliness, dost, by thy patience brave 

And by attempts sublime to gain thy health, 

Preach sermons of inestimable worth; 

For our afflictions, lately urgent, slink 

In shame when we know thine. 



And now another sister. 
Thy sane day's not today, no, not today, 
But weary years ago the last,— that day 
Thy weeping mother brought the cruel news. 
Thy life had been a test, severe and long. 
Each picture fair was painted but to fade: 
Each sound grew dulcet but to die away: 
Each balmy zephyr quickly veered and chilled: 
At last he came; thy reeling faith grew firm; 
Thy hope, thy love, thy all so largely placed 
In this true man, dying, — thou sank'st in ruin. 



Before I go, let me address you all. 

I wish to make a prophecy; I've such 

Assurance of good news I can't resist: — 

Of all diseases that afflict us now, 

Science is on the traces; 

The time comes on apace, when these doors shall wide 

Be swung, to close again on woe, no more. 

And if ye tarry not to see the day, 

Know this: — that ye shall live again, all free 

From malady; shall know eternal joys 

That nothing, nothing, nothing can withhold; 

Shall see God face to face; shall thank him from 

Your hearts for every hideous hour spent here 

In this retreat. 



SHADOWS 

There is, in truth, no power of ill, 
But all obeys Jehovah's will. 
Unbroken white,— and blind are we; 
He sendeth shadows, — then we see. 



BENEVOLENCE 

Free is the air and the sunshine fair; 

Free is the bird's sweet song; 

And with never a price, for our gladdened sight, 

The cloud-fleck drifts along; 

Free are a multitude of things 

Whose appreciation enjoyment brings. 

But here must pause the easy, care-free strain. 
Hunger and other mighty powers, amain, 
Sternly appear, inexorable, and say — 
"Observe our mandate, else we dwarf or slay." 

And their command is— "Work!" 

Some one must work to earn the world's living; 

Shall we then meanly, basely shirk, 

And take from the store when we should be giving? 



What shall be said of him, the shirking wretch, 

Who, able-bodied, lives in idleness, 

A parasite on kin or on the public? 

Has he no spark of pride that bids him say-— 

"ril be a man?" How can he creep and drone 

About a busy world, e'er stretching forth 

An able hand for alms? A clog, a burr. 

Who serves him does both him and self a wrong. 

Having the good of all in steady sight. 
Shunning with worthy pride to be a burden, 
First, each should self maintain as is his due. 
Nor deem it base or inconsiderate 
If needs be small his gift to indigence. 

But often is the struggle so severe 

To wring a living from a stubborn world. 

Men disregard the needs and rights of others. 

Howe'er beset, with gracious fairness act. 

Have pride to prove you have ability 

To get a livelihood with honesty. 

And few are those who have such scanty store 

They can not help the needy with a mite; 

And none too poor to offer words of cheer 

And grant a multitude of kindnesses. 



But when you have emerged from poverty, 
Forget not then your added obligation; 
Know selfishness is trebly odious then. 
But living ever carefully, increase 
With joy your service to unfortunates: 
Bestow your goods with large and heaping 

measure; 
Bestow full days instead of scattered minutes; 
But ever act with wisdom, lest your gifts 
Encourage beggary. The richest gift 
Is aid that helps the needy help themselves. 



OPEN THE DOOR! 

Open the door! and leave it open! 

If you are kind, object no more. 
If you object, you court suspicion. 

Vivisector, open the door! 



CONSIDER THE STARS 

What are those points of Hght on high, some faint, 

Some bright, spangling the heavenly canopy? 

"The stars," say all; yet but a name to some. 

Then know that, barring but a few, the stars 

We see are suns, analogous to ours. 

Small to our eyes because so far removed. 

Nor are the visible myriads all: but more 

Between, beyond; and why not more beyond. 

In shining legions stretching endlessly? 

Then were it not unreason to believe 

That of the hosts of suns but ours alone 

Should be attended by a peopled sphere? 

More like, the universe abounds with life, 

And all the denizens of little Earth 

Are few to those on other spheres abiding. 



Conceited, boastful, mediocre men, 

Feeling superior without due cause; 

And you, who, having much ability 

And being powerful, are fain to look 

Disdainfully upon your humbler fellows; 

Consider the stars! 

Consider well their great or infinite number; 

Their distance vast, how wondrous-rapid light 

Must speed from most for years to greet our eyes. 

Know that in truth, amidst the universe, 

You are but atoms on a single sphere, 

That vanity is sheer absurdity 

To rational and comprehending minds. 

Look to the stars, you vain, and be ashamed! 

Modest, benevolent, much-enduring ones, 

Harassed and worn by life's perplexities, 

Bearing couragously its disappointments. 

Consider the stars! 

Look often to the glorious heights serene! 

And as one seeking respite from Earth's turmoil. 

Ascends a mount, and from its peaceful top 

Calmly surveys the restless world below; 

So, beholding the vast and tranquil heavens. 

Feel lifted high above all trivial things. 

Feel faith increased and waning strength renewed. 

Will not the Power that rules the universe 

Lovingly direct our lives aright? 

Look to the stars, you good—be comforted! 



BROTHERHOOD 

I lay there in the dry, old well 
Where days before I blindly fell- 
Fell with the squirrels I had wantonly slain. 
Bruised and parched and starving I lay, 
With no more strength to strive again. 
How I had striven for many a day 
To climb from the well! but 'twas all in vain! 
Were they searching still in the forest wide? 
And would they find me ere I died? 

I raved or else perchance I dreamed; 
But whether raving or dreaming, 
Full wondrous things befell it seemed — 
Things that deserve relating: — 



A loosened stone in the well there seemed, 

Breast-high it was, and round it gleamed 

A pale and vaporous light. 

I cautiously rose and seized the stone, 

Drew it forth, and out there shone 

A flood of vaporous light. 

Behold! there was a spacious cave! 
From the murky well a gladsome sight. 
And the mighty cavern, stretching far, 
Was bathed in the gracious light. 

The loosened stone I used as a tool; 
Wildly I widened the friendly door; 
Then passed from the dim and hated well, 
And felt I was free once more. 

Free! free! but was I free? 
Whither might lead this cavernous room? 
Out to the upper-world and the sun 
Or to deeper depths and the gloom? 



stalactites, stalagmites- 
Beautiful forms — ^there seemed; 
Fantastic forms to left and right, 
Bathed in the pale, mysterious light 
That seemed to have no source. 
And in the clefts and dark recesses 
There seemed a hidden water-course; 
For I heard the ripple of waters. 
And the murmur and trickle of waters, 
Along some secret course. 

Like brooks that flow to the rivers. 

Were the smaller caverns to left and right; 

They entered the cavern of light; 

They were dark as the shades of night; 

And what might dwell in those dark retreats. 

And sally forth, or demon or beast, 

To injure or to affright? 

Worn as with many, many feet 
Was the path whereon I trod. 
What was the fate of those who before 
This selfsame path had trod? 



A curious form I now descried; 
It proved a gnome in garments pied. 
To my flood of questions he only said — 
"I am a friend of the gray-squirrels dead; 
On and on is the road to the day." 
And he solemnly pointed ahead. 

Wild to reach daylight, I hurried on; 
League upon league did I walk. 
At last a goblin strange I saw; 
He was perched on a jut of the rock. 
To my eager questions he only said — 
"I am a friend of the gray-squirrels dead, 
On and on is the road to the day." 
And he solemnly pointed ahead. 

Through strange, mysterious depths of earth, 
Farther and farther I pressed; 
Then another creature I saw ahead; 
'Twas another gnome as I guessed. 
On reaching him I found that he stood 
Where the cavern oped to a hall. 
A watch at the entrance seemed the gnome, 
A servant fit though so small. 



Within I beheld a curious sight: 
There sat people on seats of stone; 
And opposite me, on a massive throne, 
Sat a curious being of kingly mien — 
Twas neither savage nor cultured man 
Nor beast I had ever seen. 

"Who and what may that strange one be?" 

I asked of the gnome. And he answered me, — 

"Oh he is Regor, the just and great, 

A righteous judge who ne'er doth rate; 

The ruler he of the fissures deep. 

Of the rifts and clefts and caves; 

Nor man is he nor bear nor ape, 

But a great composite being. 

Who is chastening and freeing, 

And who judges without malice 

Who enter his spacious palace. 

Oh, the light of day is far away. 

Which none in this cavern can ever see. 

Till through the court of Regor they've passed, 

Judgment received and penalty paid." 



So said the solemn, bearded gnome 
At the door of the palatial hall. 
Continuing in a sad, low voice— 
"Enter," he said, "and await his call." 

A sumptuous, rock-hewn palace it was, 
And large chatoyants fitfully shone 
High o'er the beautiful, fengite throne. 
The ceiling was domed and richly wrought. 
The air was balmy, and heavily fraught 
With perfumes from censers that dimly burned. 

I joined the waiting people within; 
Solemn they were and silent all. 
Naught but the voice of Regor, the strange. 
Was heard in the mighty hall. 

When I entered a man was before the throne; 
And he was a trapper I soon perceived. 
He had left a steel-trap days and nights 
Till a tortured mink was by death relieved. 
Regor was speaking in solemn vein 
Of these days and nights of fright and pain. 



A burly man with a brutal face 

Was summoned next to the judgement-seat. 

Far on a rugged, northern shore, 

To die the terrible death by heat, 

He had lobsters dropped in a boiling vat. 

The voice of Regor was stern and grave, 

As a long discourse he sadly gave. 

And next was summoned a pompous man 

Who seemed engrossed with care of self. 

Believing the lobsters in torment died. 

He had bought their bodies with wicked pelf. 

He had eaten their flesh in selfish pride. 

With that of oysters and crabs and shrimps 

That also the death by heat had died. 

Regor exclaimed in ardent way— 

"You are equally guilty with those who slay." 



A hardy farmer was summoned next 
This man, in most ways kind to his beasts, 
Had, with no drug to palHate, 
Many a hapless male unsexed. 
Their cries and struggles could not protect 
From the cruel knife and ruthless hand. 
The cries of millions of tortured beasts 
Are yearly ringing throughout the land. 

One by one did they answer the call. 
Regor spoke sternly but kindly to all. 
One man was guilty of poisoning dogs; 
Another for bait had used living frogs; 
Another had cruelly slaughtered his swine; 
Another the horns had sawed from his kine; 
A woman, a daughter of riches and pride, 
Wore furs from beasts that in torment had died; 
Of various wrongs were others accused; 
All had some creature or creatures abused. 



At last I was summoned before the throne; 
And as I stood there in woe and shame, 
Thus spoke Regor in solemn voice — 
Rather in sorrow he spoke than in blame: — 
"Nor hunger nor any other need 
Beckoned you forth to the woods that day; 
To show your skill as a rifleman, 
You meant to take those squirrels home 
And the bullet-holes in their heads display. 
It was wanton murder and nothing less, 
For you meant the bodies to cast away!" 



Having admonished each in turn, 
Regor addressed us all: — 
"Injustice great you all have done, 
For of your victims there v^ere none 
But had some sense of joy and woe. 
You all have erred, but error springs 
From thoughtlessness and ignorance; 
None would have done these wretched things 
If you had realized your acts. 
I wish you well in my decree; 
But for your weal and for the weal 
Of those you might harm were you free, 
It is expedient that I 
Impose on you this penalty, — 
Each one must leave this hall, and lone 
Must live in subterranean ways. 
Pondering the wrong he has done. 
When each his error fully sees. 
He surely will his act repent; 
Then, suddenly, he will gain release- 
He will a passage find to the light." 



Leaving the hall, I entered not a dungeon,— 

But pleasant ways and rooms on every hand 

Extended far. I intuitively felt 

This labyrinth for ill was never planned, 

But rather for the quiet meditation 

Of worldly, thoughtless, callous-hearted men. 

Now thought I of the lithe and graceful squirrels 
As skillfully they leaped from tree to tree. 
They seemed to know that I was not a friend; 
How cunningly they had evaded me! 
How powerless was I to do them harm, 
But with the coward weapon that I bore! 
And then they fell with pierced and bleeding heads. 
Never to frolic in the forest more. 

Long did I wander, and endless seemed the maze: 
I thought upon the deed that I had done; 
But still, mayhap, the thought of self was first. 
Or else, e*er then, my freedom I had won. 
Slowly at last I realized my wrong. 
The same as I, they had the right to live; 
Those happy lives my ruthless hand had taken, 
Powerless was I again to give. 
Both true and deep at last was my remorse, 
And then a solemn promise did I plight 
E*er to be kind if I should reach the light. 



A sudden great happiness over me came; 
I longed for my freedom, that I might atone; 
When suddenly, through a crevasse in the rock, 
Strangely the light of the upper-world shone. 

Like a stranger from another planet dropped, 
Like a blind man seeing once again, 
I entered the glorious upper-world 
Dazed or as walking in a dream. 
Then I sat me in the shadow of a tree 
Hoping this was glad reality. 

Slowly the upper-world grew real. 
While unreal grew the world below; 
At last I was in a sunlit land; 
I longed for the sight of a fellow-man. 
To hear his voice and grasp his hand. 



Not long was I constrained to wait, 
For soon I saw a man approach — 
An aged man with kindly face. 
His bearing and his every look 
Bespoke benevolence and grace. 
I seized his hand with ardor great, 
And there beneath the spreading tree 
Did I my wondrous tale relate. 

"I took that journey long ago," 
He frankly said when I had closed. 
"Just was my chastening I know — 
I ate the flesh of beasts abused. 
Having none near of kith or kin. 
Wishing my folly to atone, 
I built myself a cottage near 
And here, content, I dwell alone. 
Each weary one I gladly meet 
When he emerges from the cave; 
And when he leaves me I entreat 
He heed the rights of great and small, 
And ne'er forget the sacred bond 
Of brotherhood with creatures all. 



"No fixed line does there exist 
'Twixt man and other living things; 
He, many powers in common has 
With many other sentient beings. 

"How much the worm or moUusk feels 
We scarce can guess— can never know. 
They some sensations surely have! 
That's cause enough we strike the blow 
Of death in painless, instant way! 
And if a use, not meaning death. 
We levy from a sentient thing. 
We ought to act in such a way 
That deed of ours shall never bring 
Pain or discomfort to our slave! 

"All living things our brothers are! 
And hard enough the road they tread. 
Without inflicting needless woe! 
They need a brother's help instead!" 



SEP 18 1913 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proces! 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologiei 



